


Sixes and Sevens

by Mitchi_476



Series: The Invaders [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitchi_476/pseuds/Mitchi_476
Summary: Reports of Michael Carter's death were greatly exaggerated.In this story, we learn about what happened to Peggy's brother, secret projects, and other origins.
Series: The Invaders [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146323
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. France and Malta, 1941

_ France, October 1941 _

The shock of hitting the water seems to numb the pain from the bullet wounds and shrapnel. 

It didn’t feel all that unpleasant a thought, letting oneself float away. Better than being in pain. His vision dims against the fading autumn sun.

Distantly, Michael Carter hears the bridge explode.

* * *

Michael wakes up on a rocky riverbank, coughing and vomiting water and in unbearable pain. He can feel everything now: his left side and chest burn but he’s chilled to the bone from the river. 

Somehow, he crawls up the stones out of the water. He collapses onto the grass and rolls onto his back and stares up into the fading autumn sky. 

Exhaustion takes hold and he almost didn’t notice the two young children -- a boy and girl no older than ten -- were staring at him. He knows the little girl tells the boy to stay put while she fetched their mother. 

But he doesn’t pay attention. As Micheal slips into unconsciousness, all he can focus on is the sky and how blue it is.

* * *

He should be dead. He hovered on its edge for a while. He should have been killed by the gunshots. He should have drowned in the river. He should have been captured. 

But instead, he undergoes kitchen table surgery conducted by a woman veterinarian and the farm wife as a nurse. 

The farm wife is named Cécile, and the children are Colette and Étienne. Her husband was killed in Spain, fighting in the International Brigades, at the Ebro. She has no love for the Vichy government. She knows people who can get him to safety when he’s a bit stable. 

She tells him this because of the words she does not say. 

Remember us.

* * *

_ Malta, November, 1941 _

He hopes that the French woman, her children, and anarchist friends are safe. 

Michael refuses to think of the team he left behind.

He’s laid up in a Maltese hospital; a rather unusual situation as getting the RAF to fly SOE agents from Britain was like pulling teeth. It was practically impossible to get their help from North Africa or the Mediterranean. And Malta is under siege, given the intermittent shaking of the hospital and the distant sound of anti-aircraft guns. 

But it hadn’t been long before he’d been debriefed and interrogated as soon as Michael could string together a cohesive sentence. They’d gone over every inch of that assignment. He gave them every crumb of information he had.

The mission is over. What more do the bastard’s want?

The same, pestering officer from the SOE’s Cairo office is back. Lord help him.

“We’re evacuating you to Cairo,” he says without even asking Michael how he was doing.

“And?” he asks, not looking away from the chess game he’s losing with the patient next to him.

“You’ll be briefed when you get there,” the officer answers, bored and annoyed with Michael’s boredom and annoyance.

“When do I ship out?”

“Day after tomorrow. First light.”

The officer leaves just as Michael’s opponent calls a checkmate.


	2. Cairo, 1942

_Cairo, October 1942_

There’s a soft knock on her desk that jolts Emily from the report she was typing. 

A red haired sergeant leans over, “Colonel wants to talk to you, Gower, once you’re finished with that report.”

She nods and goes back to her typing. The room is mostly quiet. Soft murmuring, the clatter of typing, and the whirl of the fans. The report is one of many that are not all that important and will likely be out of date by tomorrow morning. She finishes the report and hands it in before going down the hall to the colonel’s office.

Emily knocks on the open door and gives a curt, “Sir.”

“Gower, good, come in and close the door,” Col. Bartlett says, barely glancing at her as he shuffles papers out of her site. “Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. 

“I have an assignment for you,” Bartlett leans down to a drawer and takes out two files, “It’s an odd one, I’ll admit, and not quite what you were trained for.” 

Emily suppressed a sigh. For all the SOE scooping her up for her German, she hadn’t seen that much action. She’d been a courier in Toulon for all of four weeks when everything went south and she trekked overland, on foot, to Geneva. She’s been cooling her heels in Cairo ever since. 

“Whatever gets me back in the game, sir,” she replies, which gets her an approving nod. She’s surprised the cheerful smile isn’t more suspicious.

He places the files in front of her, and continues, “You are to be assigned to Operation Meridian and transferred to the Sinai.”

“And what am I to be doing there?” Emily asks.

“You will be briefed, fully, upon arrival. But it is an important operation for the war effort. And it's secrecy is paramount."

“Right" she says, trying to not sound nervous. By definition, she’s used to uncertainty, but this is just bizarre. So she continues, "If I may ask, sir, can you tell me a little of what I'm to be tasked with?"

“You, Corporal, are to aid Major Falsworth,” the colonel says, tapping the other file. Emily takes up the personnel file and skims through. For someone who looked like a disheveled university student, Major Brian Falsworth had an impressive record. Emily still felt deflated. 

“He’s one of ours. An early recruit, in fact. Did a lot of good work in France and Abyssinia. He was banged up rather badly, but is rather important to the operation. Again, you will be fully briefed upon arrival.”

“I see,” she replies. Though still somewhat disappointed. She’d prefer getting dropped into Yugoslavia or Greece to being a secretary. A transfer to the training facility in Palestine would have been more reasonable and less sidelining in her opinion.

“You’re to report on Sunday at 0800, bright and early, and start on Monday. The travel arrangements have been made, Corporal.”

“Thank you, sir.”

* * *

She finds Edith at their usual café. Like usual, she had her head in a book, a cup of Arabic coffee at hand, and a plate of dates. And doesn’t notice as Emily walks up and puts her hand on Edith’s shoulder.

“Hello, there,” Emily says lightly, sitting down at the table.

“Afternoon, love,” Edith replies, putting down her book, “you look tired.”

Edith Harker is far too refined to startle. Posh background and education, but a family she’s on the outs with. And she’s the most beautiful woman Emily’s ever met. Dark auburn hair, blue eyes, and a passing resemblance to Ingrid Bergman.

“It’s been an interesting day,” Emily replies as the waiter comes by and she requests some coffee, “what are you reading?”

She touches the book cover, “Oh you know, another dry academic book about Ancient Egyptian myth.”

“Right,” Emily replies. Her coffee arrives and she thanks the young waiter.

“But really, Em, you look roughed up. How are you?”

Emily initially doesn’t look at Edith. She looks out the window onto the street unfocused. At the dark wood table. At her coffee. There’s another reason Emily isn’t looking forward to this new operation. She doesn’t want to leave Edith, despite desperately wanting to get back into the fight. 

There was a showing of _Rebecca_ and Edith didn't want to go alone and Emily was new to Cairo, so they went to the Cosmographe together. It helped that both had read the book, preferred du Maurier's ending to Hitchcock's. But Joan Fontaine gave the Second Mrs. de Winter a backbone, which too ages in the book. It wasn't long before there were day trips to Luxor and the Valley of the Kings, and museums. And one thing lead to another.

She looks Edith in the eye, “I’m going away soon. End of the week.”

“And just as you were getting were interesting!” Edith bemoans as she rests her chin on her hand and gives a rather pretty pout.

“I thought I was already interesting!” Emily laughs.

“I kid,” Edith joins the laughter while waving off the comment, “But please do not tell me it’s something hush-hush!”

“Well…”

“Oh bloody Hell! You and half of FANY.”

The plurality of female SOE agents have FANY as a cover. Emily’s almost a minority being, officially, a member of the ATS. It’s not helped by the SOE Cairo office being an open secret. And Edith is an actual ambulance driver with FANY; she’s got a good idea on which of her bunkmates are secretly SOE.

Edith goes serious and takes Emily’s hands. The table is small and they sit so close. Despite all of the rationing, Edith still manages to smell of jasmine. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Emily says, her voice getting thick.

“If we don’t see each other soon, when this damned war’s over, we need to meet up,” she whispers.

“Where do you have in mind?” asks Emily.

“How about Istanbul? At the Hagia Sophia?”

“Sounds amazing.”

If they weren’t in public, Emily would lean over and kiss Edith right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cosmographe: A movie theatre, opened in 1920 in downtown Cairo. It was renamed Cosmos Cinema by 1950, has been renovated and houses five screens.
> 
> SOE: Special Operations Executive was a secret intelligence gathering and commando organization that operated from 22 July 1940 to 15 January 1946. They were called the "Baker Street Irregulars", "Churchill's Secret Army", and the "Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare" and were tasked setting Europe ablaze through espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance in occupied Europe and Southeast Asia against Axis powers and aid resistance movements. 
> 
> FANY: First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, also called the Princess Royal's Volunteer Corps is a British independent all-female registered charity formed in 1907 as a link between the front lines and field hospitals and were involved in intelligence gathering during both world wars. While it is on the Army list, and use army rank structure and insignia, it is not part of the Regular Army or the Army Reserve and officers do not hold commissions. During the Second World War, FANY became involved with the SOE through the friendship between Phyllis Bingham (secretary to the then Corp commander) and and Colonel (later Major General) Colin Gubbins (Director of Operations and Training SOE). FANY was initially involved with the highly secret Auxiliary Units in 1940 to act as stay-behind units should Britain be invaded by Nazi Germany. By the end of the war 3000 FANYs had served in the SOE in many capacities, most famously as agents. Of the 50 women sent to France, 39 were FANY members. Of those 39, 12 were murdered by the Nazis and one died in the field. The most notable of these agents are Nancy Wake, Odette Hallowes, Violette Szabo, Noor Inayat Khan, and Krystyna Skarbek.
> 
> ATS: Auxiliary Territorial Service was the women's branch of the British Army during the Second World War and operated from 9 September 1938 to 1 February 1949, when it was merged into the Women's Royal Army Corps. They initially served as clerks, cooks, and storekeepers, but their numbers and duties expanded to included, among others, orderlies, drivers, postal workers, and ammunition inspectors.


	3. Egypt, 1942

_Egypt, January, 1942_

Michael arrives in Alexandria with a chill that turns into pneumonia. 

During the worst of his fever he is haunted by strange parade memories from his life that seem to blend together into a new creature; home, school, and France become one. At times during the delirium, he calls out to those from his past. One time he wakes to a confused neighbour asking him who “Fred” was. Another time he apologizes to a wide-eyed nurse after a fevered confession. She understands, but she looks at him with nothing short of fear during the rest of his stay.

He was up and walking before New Years. When he gets over to a lavatory for a shave and wash on his own, Michael is astonished by his appearance. He obviously looks, and feels, weak. And the sickly cast is to be expected. Still, it was strange to see the sunken features, ashen skin, and shadows under his eyes. With his dark hair and the harsh winter light, even in the desert, Michael looks like a ghoul.

This is somehow the funniest thing he’s seen in ages. 

He lets out a laugh that sounds like a bark, which turned into a cackle. He clamps a hand over his mouth to not sound completely mad. But the laughter quickly turns into coughs that leaves him breathless and forces him to grip the sides of the sink to steady himself. 

He wonders if he’ll get his health back. The dark thought of getting discharged crosses his mind. The fact he could think of getting discharged in a dark light was a bit of a shock. But, the most likely scenario is that he’ll be promoted and given a desk job. He’ll likely become the handler to field agents or become an instructor of some sorts. At least that’s a reasonable expectation.

It’s still strange that the Cairo office was being secretive about their plans for him. 

What had he become?

* * *

Michael can hear the sparrows in the tree outside. It’s one of the only things grounding him at the moment. 

He doesn’t know if he should laugh or throw his drink in disgust. He opts to take a long sip of the rather bland tea and steadies himself. He’s in a well appointed study in a fine private home in the Heliopolis neighbourhood in Cairo. Col. Crichton was merely briefing him on Operation Meridian and completely up-ending Michael’s life.

“Any questions, Carter?” Crichton asks as if this was the most normal situation in the world.

Any questions? There are too many bloody questions. From the self pitying to the bloody philosophical. 

“I presume that my family has been informed of my… demise.”

“Yes. In the usual manner. From wounds,” Crichton replies with an air of dismissiveness that feeling leaves Michael like he’s been punched in the stomach. He can only imagine what his parents and siblings are dealing with. 

He can hear the sparrows again. It is not a pretty sound, but comforting. Steadying.

“You have been provided a new identity, of course,” Crichton gives him an envelope, “Though, you will need to get some new photographs for your files.”

Michael puts down his cup and studies the contents of the envelope. He studies his new identity; the identity card and discs, passport, personnel file. Gone was Michael Carter, and in his place was a ghost named Brian Falsworth. The new facts are within shouting distance of the truth. The same, but not. For Michael, there is a difference between the false identity for a mission, and what has been done to him. And this leaves him cold. 

He does ask more questions. Smarter ones. The sort that would keep him from the moral and ethical questions. He asks about the timeline, how they compared to the Americans, and what is the long term plan for the operation. And, of course, his specific role when the time comes. 

* * *

_Sinai, July, 1942_

Michael is given a clean bill of health by March and goes to the Sinai. The facility is really nothing more than a villa on the outskirts of Taba with a good view of Pharaoh's Island and its citadel built by Saladin. He was disabused of the romance of the Crusades in university, especially the reign of Richard the Lionhearted, but he was thrilled to be near something from that era. 

It still takes him months to get his strength and stamina back, but he’s fairly certain that Dr. James Bradley, a biochemist on loan from the SSR, is unsatisfied with his progress. Michael still has pain in his left side, there’s still shrapnel near his knee, and at times he needs a cane to walk. But Bradley’s one of those persons who is only impressed by his own genius and will let everyone know it. Even if it puts him at odds with the medical doctor monitoring Michael’s progress, the quartermaster for resources, and the engineer over the contraption in the basement. And Michael might as well be a lab rat to the good doctor, who made it clear that he does not concern himself with the opinions of said lab rat. No wonder he was in Egypt.

He’s kept abreast of the Americans’ progress as well. It is understandable that the briefings from the SSR are little more than breadcrumbs for security reasons, but the message is rather clear about who was taking the lead on this project. Peggy would’ve made a comment on the male ego and measurements. 

There’s an emergency briefing as soon as they learn of Project Rebirth’s completion and the death of Dr. Erskine. They need to guarantee that the SSR will send samples of Rogers’ blood, maybe Bradley could synthesize the serum. 

Michael also sees the need for an alternative plan. Operation Meridian is predicated on Erskine’s formula, and that Erskine would be around to replicate the procedure. But it could be years before anyone figures out the serum. 

Michael hasn’t just been getting himself ready for the procedure. He’s done quite a bit of reading in his spare time; looked into the background of Operation Meridian, Project Rebirth, and Dr. Abraham Erskine. He didn’t work alone on this serum. He had students and assistants, and some of them scattered when Erskine immigrated to the US. Michael has a good idea where one went. But he can’t just go pick up a wayward German scientist hiding out in a neutral nation. One needs to be subtle about such things. And one doesn’t go on such a mission alone.

He needs someone he can trust and would quickly understand the aim of such a mission.

Something catches his eye. There are copies of British and American newspapers on the table in the meeting room. Their headlines are bold and breathless and the candid photo Steve Rogers takes up most of the front pages. Michael turns a copy of _The Daily Bugle_ towards him. There’s a picture of Peggy in the lower right corner with the caption “Major M. Carter, SSR.” His little sister is a bloody major and he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
